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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382519">bloody and bruised (brought to my knees)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE'>PUNK_MENACE</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lemon boy and me (we just gotta get along together) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Biggs Has Anxiety, Caretaking, Cloud whump, Crying, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Whump, F/F, Fever, Fever Dreams, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Intervention, Lots of it, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Trauma, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Sickfic, Suicidal Ideation, Trauma, Vomiting, Whump, barret and cloud have potty mouths, cursing, hurt!Cloud, the Aerti is background/developing for now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNK_MENACE/pseuds/PUNK_MENACE</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the disastrous mission, Cloud has been left badly injured and struck down with an infection. Tifa, Aerith, and the others look after him. Nursing him back to health is not the hardest part, though it's not pleasant to watch as he suffers. The hard part is convincing Cloud he deserves their help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart, Biggs &amp; Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart &amp; Cloud Strife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lemon boy and me (we just gotta get along together) [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>285</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bloody and bruised (brought to my knees)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>LONG NOTE INCOMING, SORRY:<br/>Ok so I know I've been ignoring the actual timeline of the game since it goes directly from Wall Market to the plate collapse but I've come to the conclusion that in this timeline, there’s a big chunk of time - maybe 2-3 weeks - between those plot points. In that newfound time, I like to think Avalanche was furiously investigating if Don Corneo was bluffing or not. The last fic was set only days after Wall Market. I also like to think Reeve somehow managed to put together a rockin’ cost-benefit analysis that somehow convinced Shinra to at least postpone the plate drop. HOWEVER, the plate drop will happen eventually. Until then, I get free reign &gt;:) </p><p>I have never written so much in so little time...I can't believe I posted the first fic in this series <i>this month</i>. Cloud Strife just inspires me. More than that, though, you guys inspire me! I wanted to thank everyone that has commented on this series. Without your support, I definitely wouldn't be able to write this much or this fast. Thank you, guys!</p><p> <br/><b><span class="u">Please heed the tags and stay safe.</span></b><br/> </p><p><b>Title is from Hollow, the credits song of FFVII Remake.</b> (If you haven't listened to it yet, I recommend you go do that! It makes me cry T-T)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a corner of the backroom in Seventh Heaven, Cloud lies on a cot, cushioned by several blankets. He wears nothing but his black boxers, though no one could see. Jessie had tucked a blanket over him, making sure to pull it up to his chin. The only skin visible now as he lies still in the throes of fever is his flushed face. </p><p> </p><p>Underneath, his body is a mess of wounds. His knee has to be iced periodically to keep the swelling down until the doctor from Sector 5 arrives to properly treat it. His left arm is a canvas, generous strokes of bruises splattered all over it. The three fractures had been healed fully, but the surrounding tissue had to be left to heal on its own. Aerith had done her best, but even she didn’t have the power to completely erase his wounds. Magic requires energy. Cloud’s injuries were so extensive that no one person had enough energy to heal all of them. His head wound, for example, was all but passed over in her efforts to heal the compound fracture and the catastrophic hole in his chest. Tifa had closed it with butterfly stitches, seeing as the cut wasn’t too long or deep. His concussion had thankfully been mild, as the brunt of the fall had been on his arm and chest. </p><p> </p><p>Those two injuries were going to scar. The slash on his arm was ragged and Tifa isn’t exactly an expert in stitching scars. She can put Cloud back together just fine, but there’s a certain cosmetic prowess needed to avoid scars. Even she can admit not many people would be able to keep the wound from scarring either way - the way a splintered bone stabs through skin is just too erratic. His chest wound had also been difficult to care for. It was a circular wound, and that by itself was enough to complicate matters and it was also deep. Aerith had repaired his damaged organs first and then managed to knit a good amount of flesh back together, but that was the extent of her power. His mako-enhanced healing hadn’t quite kicked in, either. Cloud will certainly end up with a jagged scar on his arm and two twin scars on his chest and back. Hopefully, his face wouldn’t scar too badly, but aesthetics weren’t too high on anyone’s priority list. Even if he did acquire a few new marks on his skin, it’s not like these are Cloud's first scars. A small mark on his face is nothing compared to the scar on his belly. He would blend right in among the slums. </p><p> </p><p>It’s hard to care about the state of his porcelain skin after everything that has happened. Especially after they had to force Cloud to throw up an appalling amount of blood. Aerith’s healing magic could clear wounds of contaminants, but she couldn’t magically clear the blood from his newly-healed stomach. Humans are not meant to ingest that much blood, whether mako-enhanced or not. It could have poisoned him. So, in an awkward, awful manipulation of Cloud’s limp body, they had held him over the toilet. Tifa had shoved her fingers down his throat and...well, it was a tough day. </p><p> </p><p>Now, at least he can sleep peacefully, to a certain extent. Cloud stirs frequently, never sleeping for more than a few hours without shifting restlessly, trying to wake. It's not until the second day that he manages to wake up and the experience is not a pleasant one.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Cloud dreams in flashes. Between the colors and memories of sounds, voices, screams, he wakes for seconds at a time. His dreams are filled with red flames and green mako. Grey desolation and earthy tones of a rain-soaked cliff. He can’t wrap his mind around the meaning of his pain or why his body is scorching. There’s so much of it infesting his body. It overflows, drowning him, pulling him back to a restless sleep again and again. </p><p> </p><p>There is hurt in every corner of his body. Excruciating pain throbbing in his chest and a cruel, sharp ache in his left forearm take up most of his consciousness. Instinctively, he wants to wrap his hand around that damned ache and squeeze, take away some of the pain, but he doesn’t even have the strength to remember why it hurts. He doesn’t have the energy to stay awake long enough. Cloud is weak and vulnerable and too far gone to worry about it for long. </p><p> </p><p>The first time he fights his way to wakefulness, he feels as though someone has just dunked him in ice water. In reality, he isn’t wet. The cold is coming from inside him. He opens his eyes - they flutter, just barely moving enough to see past his blond lashes. It’s dim, wherever he is. His head is pounding fiercely, forcing a short whine from his throat. Cloud blinks away the hot tears, letting them roll down his face. </p><p> </p><p>It hurts. Every inch of him, inside and out. He needs it to stop. Why won’t it stop?</p><p> </p><p>Where is he? His ears are ringing.  Are the others okay? <em> Tifa</em>, he thinks, <em> Where is she? </em></p><p> </p><p>“‘Fa…” Cloud struggles to keep his thoughts together. He’s so, <em>so </em>cold. Blankets - he needs more blankets. There’s only one tucked around him and it's not enough. Even so, he wants Tifa more than a blanket. He wants Aerith. He wants his mother, too. Someone to take away the pain, clear his head.</p><p> </p><p>Then, a figure appears. He recognizes Aerith’s silhouette instantly. She leans over him, dabs the sweat from his brow. Her green eyes are filled with melancholy. Cloud tries to say something, tries to bring the light back to her face, but all that comes out is another croaking whine. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” she croons, “You’re okay. I’m here.” </p><p> </p><p>His surroundings are slipping away from him. The edges of his vision twist. Aerith bends down and presses her lips to the crown of his head. He can no longer feel the cold. Cloud’s eyes slide shut.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Cloud murmurs things in his sleep and half-conscious state. Aerith hears whispers of her own name in there from time to time. Her heart breaks for him, sitting at his bedside. She keeps the rag on his forehead cold, soaking it in ice water every once in a while. There’s not much to be done until later in the evening when the doctor will arrive. She had called the Leaf House yesterday, hours after everyone fell asleep in Seventh Heaven. Of course, Dr. Hearth couldn’t leave at the drop of a hat. He had patients in Sector 5 to look after. He was kind enough to come to their aid personally despite how busy he is and offered to come as soon as he could. Cloud has only been back for two days, but the wait for Dr. Hearth seems to last an eternity.</p><p> </p><p>The night had not been kind. Cloud had been unresponsive at first. His fever grew, and with it,  his discomfort. Aerith had not been able to wake up until midday yesterday and had to rest on Tifa’s orders. They were all taking shifts looking over Cloud except Aerith. She had felt better after the sunset and decided enough was enough. So, she sat herself down at his side and refused to leave until the next shift began.  They were doing intervals of two hours. In the short time she sat at his side, Cloud’s condition deteriorated rapidly. His fever became dangerously high, and he started to dream. He twitched, shifted, muttered scattered sentences in between bouts of being deeply unconscious. Sometimes he called for Tifa, sometimes he begged for his mother. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes he rasped the name<em> Sephiroth </em>and that’s when he would have his worst nightmares. Aerith longs to fold him into her arms and take away all of the pain. She can’t, though. All she can do is wipe the sweat and tears away, give him his medicine, and try to fight his fever off. No spell in the world could take away the tragedy of his past. She can’t even heal the worst of his wounds fully. </p><p> </p><p>When Aerith isn’t sitting at Cloud’s side, she’s with Tifa. Or, when Tifa is tending to Cloud, she goes to Stargazer Heights and keeps Barret and Marlene company. The two of them are staying in Tifa’s room while Cloud heals so that they can both rest properly. The only time Aerith truly rests is when she can sit in peace with Tifa.</p><p> </p><p>At first, Aerith had just felt a fondness for Tifa. She was sweet, strong, generous, and beautiful. When she looked at Cloud, her face glowed with affection, but it was obvious they weren’t romantically involved. Well, it was obvious to Aerith. People are often confused by her insight. To her, it's a simple matter of observing their friendship.</p><p> </p><p>The two of them had gravitated to each other. It had been years since she last heard from Zack. She had felt him return to the planet. Aerith knows he would want her to move on, and so, it wasn’t so hard to come to terms with the feelings she has for Tifa. The problem lies in their unfortunate situation - Aerith hasn’t had the time to sit down with Tifa, just the two of them, with nothing else to worry about. She doesn’t blame Cloud at all. How could she? He cares about her and Tifa so much, Aerith knows he’d support them. He didn’t ask to get skewered. A sick man's bedside is no place to confess her feelings. But she isn't angry about that.</p><p> </p><p>What does make her angry is that he stayed quiet about it. Tifa told her through her tears that Cloud hadn’t given any indication that he was hurt beyond his dislocated shoulder. He had been prepared to die quietly. <em> You idiot</em>, she thinks, looking down at Cloud. <em>You absolute idiot. </em></p><p> </p><p>Pushing her anger down, she dabs at his forehead and neck again. Now is not the time to confront him about that or even dwell on it. Cloud will talk when he’s healthy again. She’ll make sure of it. For now, Aerith comforts him through the fever dreams. It’s all she can do.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The world is on fire. He can’t breathe, and he’s on fire. His body is<em> burning</em>. His eyes are melting in his skull, like there is a fire eating him from the inside out, making his lungs stutter. Cloud thinks he might taste ash on his tongue. He slides open heavy eyelids and tries to look around but his muscles are molten, his stomach is solid rock. </p><p> </p><p>“Mother,” he wheezes. She’s in the house somewhere, trapped by the flames. Fire whips over his skin as he forces himself to sit up. Dynamite seems to go off in his chest, arm, and leg. Cloud would have screamed but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a garbled exhale.</p><p> </p><p>Sephiroth is nearby. He can’t afford to be slowed down by his wounds. Cloud grits his teeth and digs his nails into his palm, pushing past the pain and weakness. His whole body shakes from overexertion as he lifts himself straighter. The ground beneath him sinks as though the packed dirt were malleable, but he knows he can’t trust his senses, not with the fumes of smoke messing with his head. Something soft and damp slips down his body. Looking down, he sees it’s a blanket. Sweat covers every inch of his body, soaking the bandages wrapped around his chest and arm. </p><p> </p><p>His shoulder screams at him. Bruises litter his left arm, throbbing as though someone just smashed a bat into the limb three distinct times. As Cloud lurches off the bed, he feels sutures tugging at the skin on his forearm and his chest. The moment he steps down and tries to place his weight on his feet, lightning streaks up his leg, bundling a burst of pain into his knee. Cloud cries out, collapsing immediately, landing hard on his elbows and knees.</p><p> </p><p>The pain doubles, triples, searing his nerves. His eyes fill with tears and his stomach cramps, forcing him to retch stinging bile. The whole world is swaying now and there’s something else wrong. There is no dirt beneath his hands. Blinking, he tries to raise his head and look around. Instead, Cloud feels whatever meager strength he still had dissipate, leaving him to tip onto his side. Again, more agony punches through him. The tears overfill, spilling over his nose and cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom...Tifa!” Cloud tries to raise his voice over the roar in his ears. The fire is getting stronger. His head <em>pounds</em>, a vicious headache hacking away at his temples and behind his eyes. Again, his stomach clenches. Cloud barely leans forward so that he doesn’t vomit on himself, but the movement is minuscule. At this rate, Sephiroth will be able to descend on him like a shrike pursuing its prey. Soon, Cloud will be nothing more than a broken little corpse hung on a sharpened branch - on Masamune.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud!”</p><p> </p><p>Someone is calling him, but the thought of Masamune strikes something in his memory. Static rings through his ears, making his headache somehow even worse than before.</p><p> </p><p>He <em>had </em>gotten run through by Masamune once. Cloud squeezes his eyes shut, not caring as he feels a pair of arms wrap around him. A memory develops slowly. From the haze of his mind, he remembers Sephiroth’s triumphant, crazed eyes staring up at him. He had grabbed hold of the blade...and the memory slips away. </p><p> </p><p>It already happened, then. Sephiroth had been able to find him and nearly kill him. But Cloud survived somehow. The static abates, allowing him to open his eyes again. Though everything is still quite blurry, he sees now that there is no fire. Heat continues to pool in his eyes, his chest, his stomach, but he isn’t burned. Nothing is burning. They must have put out the fires somehow.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at me, Cloud. Look at me. It’s okay.” Something clicks. Tifa is holding him in her arms. He hadn’t noticed, but she’s helping him sit up away from the little puddle of puke. Well, it’s mostly bile. “There you go...come back. You’re safe.” Her voice is steady and strong and comforting. Her face is tight with distress. Awareness is still far, far away, but Cloud feels his scattered mind calm. If Tifa is safe, then perhaps the world hasn’t ended. </p><p> </p><p>“Mom?”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa looks down at him, expression unreadable. “She’s safe.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud’s head lolls on Tifa’s shoulder. Relief nearly eclipses the pain in his body. More tears slip from between his lashes. “Good...Sephiroth?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to worry about him. Just focus on getting better, okay?” Tifa shifts her hold so that she can lift him. Cradling him as though he weighs no more than a Chocobo chick. Tifa brings him back to the bed. Unlike his tumble off the cot, she sets him down with all the care in the world. Lethargy begins to his body without the threat of Sephiroth driving him half-mad. Cloud blinks ever so slowly, though each time he does, it gets harder to open his eyes again. Between each blink, Tifa moves, appearing in a different spot in the room each time. As Cloud begins to lose the battle against sleep, she appears at his bedside. “Here, drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa cups the back of his head, lifting gently so that she can tip the water into his mouth. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the first drop hit his tongue. She doesn’t let him chug it all down at once like he wants to, so he has to wait patiently. By the time the glass is empty, he feels marginally better. His body is still scorching hot and falling off the bed jarred his injuries, leaving a vivid pain he couldn’t ignore.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, he can’t keep his eyes open. Tifa pulls a new blanket over him. He isn’t strong enough to tell her he’s too hot, much less push it off his body, but at least she only tucks it around his waist. Then, he feels a blessedly cold towel wipe the sweat from his face and neck. It feels wonderful. Cloud melts into the bed. He drifts off to sleep with the feeling of Tifa laying the towel over his forehead and lacing their fingers together.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tifa had fallen asleep. She took over for Aerith after her shift with Cloud was done. By then, the sun had already set. Tifa had been so stressed waiting for the doctor to arrive that she hadn’t thought it possible to doze off. Despite how worried she was, Tifa had dug her elbow into the cot and leaned her head on her arm, trying to grind the headache from her temples. She had only wanted to rest her eyes for a moment - next thing she knew, Cloud was lunging off the cot. He brought most of the blankets with him which tugged Tifa’s arm out from under her. </p><p> </p><p>He had been completely delirious from the fever, half-shouting nonsensical warnings. Thankfully, he hadn’t fought her, though she doubts he physically could have done anything to obstruct her. Tifa managed to calm him down, get him back on the cot, and finally sat herself down to tend to his fever. </p><p> </p><p>It all happened in about five minutes. In that time, Cloud nearly reopened the gash on his arm and threw up twice. Though Tifa wishes he would eat more than just a few crackers, she’s also glad she didn’t have to clean up real vomit off the floor. She also wishes she could <em>do </em>something for him, not just do her best to keep his symptoms at bay. Dr. Hearth would soon arrive and do what Tifa couldn't. He’ll bring antibiotics that will help Cloud battle the infection. Until then, Tifa can only hope Cloud doesn't have any more nightmares. He's been terrified and so, so confused enough already. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa isn't a doctor and she isn't a psychiatrist. She's not a therapist and it isn't her job to go around helping damaged people. Her real job is Seventh Heaven and, of course, helping Avalanche save the planet. But Tifa had learned long ago that she unconsciously tries to shoulder that responsibility. She's trying to learn how to be a good friend while also prioritizing her needs. It's a work in progress. She still can't help but jump at the chance to care for people in need even when it compromises her wellbeing. Even with all that effort, there's nothing she can do to keep Cloud’s mind from hurting him. What happened with Sephiroth alone was deeply traumatizing. Whatever happened <em>after </em>Tifa passed out, bleeding profusely from the gash in her chest, it must have been nightmarish. Then she had woken up and found out that Cloud and Zack were nowhere to be seen. </p><p> </p><p>Five years later and she has no idea what happened to Cloud on that day. It's no wonder he’s been whittled down to the cynical, distrustful young man he is now. He's barely older than a child. Tifa, being a year younger than him, will admit that they're both young. Too young for the tragedy they've endured already. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud turns his head slightly in his sleep. His fingers twitch, seeking out assurance. Tifa readjusts their hands and gives him a gentle squeeze. He stills. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa has been sitting vigil for about an hour so far, having slept for about fifteen minutes before Cloud woke up. She’s been tending quietly to him for only ten minutes when the door to the bar creaks open.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith leads Dr.Hearth into the room. “This is Tifa Lockhart. Tifa, this is Dr. Hearth.” She gestures at the bed. “She's been helping me with Cloud. After I healed him as best I could, Tifa did an amazing job patching him up.”</p><p> </p><p>Dr.Hearth shakes her hand and gives her a warm smile. “It's nice to meet you, Ms. Lockhart. If you don't mind, I’d like to examine Cloud.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just Tifa is fine.” Careful of her ankle, she stands, reluctantly untangling her hand from Cloud’s and makes her way to Aerith’s side. “Go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith loops their arms together and pulls her closer. She leans her head on Tifa’s shoulder, a point of warmth and security to hang on to. </p><p> </p><p>Dr.Hearth methodically makes his way down Cloud’s body, going from wound to wound. He starts at the cut on the side of his face which reaches from his temple to halfway down his cheek. The doctor then prods gently at Cloud’s shoulder, unwraps the gauze around his forearm, and checks the short gash. </p><p> </p><p>“This is very neat work, Tifa,” he praises. Then he wraps the wound up again and moves on. Dr.Hearth skips down to Cloud’s knee, checking the ligaments. He happily reports that no surgery will be needed but that his recovery will require a lot of care so that the joint isn't reinjured. Finally, he comes back to Cloud’s chest, pulling the gauze away. Silently, he checks the sutures and Cloud’s vitals. “So far he seems to be healing well except for the infection, of course. I will need to check his back.” </p><p> </p><p>“I'll wake him, then. He's a very light sleeper but I doubt being this sick will change that much.” Tifa pulls away from Aerith so that she can rouse Cloud. Sitting on the cot, she slides her arm under his shoulders, lifts him so he can lean against her, and calls his name. Almost instantly, his eyes flicker open, but it's obvious he isn't all there. </p><p> </p><p>“Tee?” </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” she murmurs, “There’s a doctor here to look at you. He's going to check your back, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>That triggers something. Cloud starts to wriggle in her arms, glazed eyes widening, but he still isn't seeing what's in front of him. Dr. Hearth steps away from the bed, alarmed. Cloud’s roaming eyes seem to anchor on him - but not on his face. Mostly, he stares at the white lab coat.</p><p> </p><p>“N-no- don’t...don’t,” he gasps. “No more.” </p><p> </p><p>“Shh, you're okay.” Tifa cards her hand through his hair. She has no idea what could have caused this reaction to her mentioning a doctor. She almost doesn't want to know. It's a mystery for another time. “I won't let anything happen to you.” She gives in to the urge to look around, remembering what he said about his visions of Sephiroth, but finds no deceased war hero anywhere.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud calms somewhat at the sound of her voice, but his eyes are still unnervingly wide, staring at the approximate area around Dr. Hearth. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t let 'im…” </p><p> </p><p>“I won’t. I promise.” It's all she can say with no idea of what Cloud is so scared of. Perhaps it has to do with doctors since he started panicking at the first mention of one. <em> Don’t let him... </em> don’t let him do what? <em> Focus</em>, she thinks. Cloud needs her right now. There’s nothing she can do to change the past. The uncertainty of what happened to him is infuriating and chilling, but he’s scared now in her arms and she can <em>do </em>something about it. </p><p> </p><p>She doubts Cloud can properly remember whatever happened to him, anyway. There’s no way she’ll find out what happened any time soon, not with him so sick, and even when he has recovered, there’s no guarantee Cloud himself will know. Whatever caused his aversion to doctors has been buried in the past and Tifa is sure that the only way to gain access to that memory is by picking Cloud apart. It sounds clinical and cruel, but she can tell that Cloud’s mind is massively warped and there is no way to navigate that without a bit of digging.</p><p> </p><p>Groping around on the bed, Cloud clumsily seeks out her hand again. He can’t raise his hand higher than a couple of inches before it falls right back onto the mattress. Tifa twines their fingers together again, letting out a slow breath. That seems to be enough for him to lie still, so she waves Dr.Hearth back over. While she had been comforting him, Dr.Hearth had apparently taken the hint and abandoned his lab coat.</p><p> </p><p>Dr.Hearth works quickly. He comes around the cot again and gives the wound on Cloud’s back the same treatment as the one on his chest. Whatever he finds must be satisfactory. He nods appreciatively and says, “Yes, very well done, Tifa. You and Aerith have cared for Cloud well. I would even say you did most of my job for me.” He keeps his voice low and speaks quickly, doing his best not to linger, for which Tifa is grateful. The last thing they need is for Cloud to have a panic attack in his current state. Dr.Hearth wraps the bandages around his chest again with precise fingers and then steps away. “I’ve brought the full treatment of medicine he needs. How about I step outside with Aerith so Cloud can rest?” </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you so much.” She tries to pack the full weight of her gratitude into her words.</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head with a smile. “It’s no problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back.” Aerith brushes her hand over Cloud’s unruly hair once before leading Dr.Hearth back into the bar.</p><p> </p><p>With the examination over, Tifa lowers Cloud onto the cot so he can continue to rest. He doesn’t let go of her hand. She scoots her folding chair closer to the bed and gets comfortable. Aerith had offered to take over after her shift, but Tifa still has another twenty minutes and she’d rather not leave his side after the shock he had. Dr.Hearth is a kind man but Tifa has no doubt Cloud didn’t couldn’t see past his lab coat. The word ‘doctor’ had filled him with so much fear. Doctors are supposed to care for you, and yet something happened that made Cloud terrified of them. Tifa thinks about how SOLDIERs are dosed with mako, about how apparently most of them die of cellular degeneration, and wonders just what kind of doctors Shinra employs.</p><p> </p><p>She feels queasy thinking about the possibilities. Tifa feels her jaw clench and her blood pressure spike. Someone had hurt Cloud. He’s been hurt before, of course, been attacked and maimed and nearly killed. But a doctor, someone whose entire job is to heal, had done something to Cloud. She wonders if he had trusted the doctor, or doctors, that did it. She wondered if he cried. If he was even awake for whatever happened.</p><p> </p><p>Tears of anger prick her eyes. Unbridled fury burns her stomach, her heart. Her hand clenches around Cloud’s fingers slightly but he doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he squeezes back. Alive. Safe in her care. No one could hurt him, not when she’s around. Her rage ebbs, though only by a couple of shades, as some of it turns to protectiveness. Tifa’s ankle is already feeling better after she used a low-level healing materia on herself, unwilling to tire Aerith out further. She has most of her mobility back. If anyone were to even look at Cloud wrong, Tifa is fully capable of beating them into the ground.</p><p> </p><p>She finds comfort in the thought.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Cloud rises from sleep slowly, wading through layers of consciousness. First, he becomes aware that he’s awake and has been in a deep sleep. Then, sensation returns. His body is one big ache - there are so many epicenters, he can’t quite sort through them. From the sharp twinge in his arm to the biting buzz in his knee to the unforgiving pulsing in his chest and back. Cloud has to take several deep breaths. He spends an indefinite amount of time getting used to it.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he can think through the pain, but a thick haze remains wrapped around his mind. Opening his eyes, he’s certain he’s been lying in this cot for a while. And he’s very sick. The heat in his cheeks confirms it. The room is dim, only a bit of light filtering through the blinds on a window high up on the wall. To his left sits Biggs.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he sounds relieved. Yet the lines on his face tell a different story. He looks weighed down by some inescapable anxiety. Sadly enough, that’s not too rare a look from Biggs.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud’s mouth feels drier than the dead Midgar soil. Despite this, he whispers, “You’ve been overthinking.” His voice is rough and wavers against his will. Half the words were inaudible. It must be his throat, which feels like it’s on fire though he’d barely spoken. He’s lost his voice for some reason. </p><p> </p><p>So, he’s sick and hurt and has no idea as to how that happened. Not the best-case scenario. His hands ache for the weight of his sword. There’s no strength left in him to panic, though. Biggs’s presence is oddly calming despite how anxious he is. Cloud laughs internally at the contrast.</p><p> </p><p>Biggs gives him a strained smile. “You know me so well. I’m flattered.” He leans over to grab a glass of water. “Here, we got some medicine for you. Mind if I help?” </p><p> </p><p>He’s high-strung and overthinking isn’t good for him. Cloud thinks it has something to do with a hyperactive sense of empathy, like Tifa but on steroids. Though it has it’s negative effects, there’s also the guarantee that Biggs will do his utmost to make Cloud comfortable. He won’t touch Cloud without his explicit permission. It’s comforting to know that his boundaries won’t be pushed. He doesn’t have the ability to enforce them at the moment, not unless it’s for survival.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere along the line, though, Cloud learned that he doesn’t have to fight with Biggs. The man seems to just know.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud nods, not wanting to speak until his parched tongue no longer feels like sand. Biggs helps him sit up just enough to be able to down the chalky pill comfortably. It doesn’t taste spectacular but he doesn’t care as long as it alleviates his fever. The physical contact itself doesn’t bother him, especially since he had been expecting it and had the option to refuse, but the fact that he can't sit up on his own pisses him off. He doesn’t want help, to <em>need </em>help. He should be able to stand on his own two feet and take care of himself.</p><p> </p><p>And yet. His muscles are so damn sore he knows he can’t sit up, not unless his life counts on it. There’s something on Biggs’s face that’s telling him to let the poor man take care of him. </p><p> </p><p>It’s guilt.</p><p> </p><p>Guilt so strong it seems to fill the room. That is what is weighing Biggs down, sitting heavy on his shoulders. His eyes have that kicked puppy look. The problem is that Biggs is simultaneously the puppy and the one who kicked it.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks.” The water worked wonders on his throat. Though the ache persists, he can speak somewhat clearer. </p><p> </p><p>“Need anything else? More pillows? I can offer a few hundred blankets.” Biggs smiles at him. It barely reaches his eyes, but it’s genuine, the same crooked smile he always has. Then something shifts in his expression. The guilt comes back, twofold. His eyes slide away from Cloud and he starts to wring his hands. “Didn’t do shit back at the warehouse. I'm trying to make up for it…” To Cloud’s immense horror, Biggs cuts himself off, choked up. His eyes are bright with unshed tears before he blinks them away, twisting his fingers despairingly.</p><p> </p><p>“Biggs, don’t. Don’t do that.” Cloud doesn’t have the words to tell him it isn’t his fault. He's not sure what Biggs is so sorry about but he knows with certainty that whatever he's blaming himself for is not his fault. </p><p> </p><p>Biggs tangles a hand in his hair. He still won’t look at Cloud. “I should have noticed,” he grinds out past gritted teeth. “How did I miss it?” </p><p> </p><p>Cloud can feel the anguish rolling off of him in waves. He wants to reach out and grab his shoulder, pull him down, tell him that he has nothing to be sorry about. But he’s so <em>t</em><em>ired.</em> The exhaustion is insurmountable, making his whole body feel like a stone sinking deeper into the blankets. Instead, all he can do is stare at Biggs through his lashes as he falls asleep again.</p><p> </p><p>Biggs bows over the cot, head in his hands, muttering apologies over and over into the darkness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It has been two days since they got back from the botched mission. The sun has just risen on the third day. Biggs is sitting with Cloud currently while the rest of Avalanche sits in the bar eating the breakfast that Jessie volunteered to prepare. Barret has brought Marlene to eat with them, so the only people missing are in the backroom. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith likes sharing meals with Avalanche. It’s markedly different from the times she eats with her mother, which is always calm if not filled with comfortable laughter. Elmyra always insisted on eating together and Aerith never passed up a chance to just sit and talk with her mother. </p><p> </p><p>Meals with Avalanche are never quiet. Not like today, at least.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud is always a sourpuss at the beginning of the meal. Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge act like siblings, making each other cackle with the weirdest jokes. They usually manage to make Cloud smile against his will at least once. Barret joins in from time to time but normally prefers telling stories or simply eating and listening. If Marlene is ever sitting with them, he elects to leave his gun prosthesis on the floor beside him and takes extra care to mind his table manners. By the end of it, they’re all wiping tears away from laughing so hard. Aerith loves eating with them because she gets to watch Tifa’s face light up when she laughs, glowing like a miniature sun.</p><p> </p><p>But today they’re missing two parts. Everyone is exhausted. It feels wrong to act carefree even though Cloud is already on the road to recovery. After all, they've all had a turn at changing his bandages and watching him as he tosses and turns, unable to hear them past the choking fever. <em> He's okay</em>, Aerith reminds herself. Biggs is taking care of him right now. </p><p> </p><p>Biggs, however, is not okay. He had passed up eating with them, saying that he wasn't hungry. Cloud’s actions have been haunting everyone, but Biggs seems to be torturing himself to a higher degree. She's not sure exactly what goes through his mind when he sits with Cloud. He seems to think that the weight of the world belongs on his shoulders. As if it's his job to make sure everything in life goes perfectly for everyone around him. From what Aerith has gathered listening in to their meetings, that may be Biggs’s actual job as part of Avalanche. But he doesn't seem to understand it doesn't mean he's responsible for when things go wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith blinks and realizes she's just been pushing her food around. It's delicious as usual, but there's so much on her mind she can't seem to appreciate the flavor. </p><p> </p><p>Don Cornelio had, after a bit of convincing from Cloud, revealed that Shinra plans to drop the plate on the very Sector she finds herself in now. Avalanche has had to go on the defensive, in a manner of speaking. Their plans to attack Shinra have been postponed for the sake of investigating if Don Corneo was lying or not.</p><p> </p><p>She spears some greens on her fork and shoves the bundle in her mouth. Now is not the time to think of that. Meals should be a time of peace when friends and family gather to talk and enjoy each other's company. Instead, she looks around to see that everyone has a grey tint to their complexion. Their plates resemble hers - picked at and lonely. Even Marlene has noticed the mood and is doing her best to sit still. It won't do. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for cooking today, Jessie!” Aerith speaks up suddenly, startling the others. “I know it's, ah, tough right now, but…” She thinks, briefly, about what the others had told her. How Cloud was so close to death and hadn't made a peep. He had held his tongue on purpose. Aerith loops her arm with Tifa and leans in close, dispelling the thought. She'll chew Cloud out when he's feeling better. For now, they all need to cheer up before the stress reaches its boiling point. “But, it's important to keep a clear head and make sure we appreciate each other like Mom always said. Especially during meals.”  </p><p> </p><p>Tifa rests her cheek softly on Aerith’s head. “You’re right. Thank you, Jessie. Is this one of your mom’s recipes?”</p><p> </p><p>Jessie’s eyes shine at the mention of her mother. Proudly, she exclaims, “You got it! She made me learn how to cook lots of her recipes. Even though her pizza always hits the spot, she always said to me, ‘<em> Jessie, pizza is not a vegetable.’ </em> I never believed her, of course. And she’d always go on about scurvy, for some reason.” She chuckles. “Only pirates get scurvy. Duh!”</p><p> </p><p>Aerith, Wedge, and Tifa burst out laughing at her ridiculous claim.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s scurvy?” Marlene grins, confused, but happy that the silence has been broken.</p><p> </p><p>Barret gives Jessie a good-natured scowl before looking down at Marlene. “It’s a very scary disease that you get if you don’t eat your fruits and veggies, baby. But since you’re always a good girl and eat so-o-o healthy, you don't have to worry about it.” He pokes his daughter in the side gently, making her giggle like a bell.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, you really don’t want to pass up your greens,” Wedge tells her in a conspiratory voice, “Or else your teeth will fall out! Like this!” He stretches his grin out like a zombie and two small potatoes tumble out of his mouth and onto his plate.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith lets out a full-belly laugh at that. He and Jessie start to one-up each other, piling on more and more outrageous symptoms of scurvy. Marlene laughs until her cheeks are pink. The food steadily disappears from their plates. Tifa slings an arm around her shoulder and the room feels so much warmer.</p><p> </p><p>Once they're finished, Wedge stands. “Hold on, I’m gonna grab a couple of plates for Biggs and Cloud, see if they’re up for eating.” </p><p> </p><p>“Good idea. Thanks, Wedge.” Tifa smiles. </p><p> </p><p>He gives her a quick salute before making his way to the kitchen where the pots of food are. Once ready, he heads into the back room with two plates. </p><p> </p><p>Aerith glances back at the door and then at the clock. Biggs just started his shift, so Jessie won’t have to take over for another two hours. During those two hours, they clear the table, and Tifa makes them all drinks. She pours some juice for Marlene, too. The meal had helped to clear away most of the tension but the threat of the plate dropping is not so easy to forget. Their conversation remains somewhat solemn, particularly when Marlene asks about Cloud. </p><p> </p><p>They haven't interacted much since Cloud first scared her, and when he wants to avoid social interaction, he disappears very easily. Marlene isn’t scared of him anymore, though, and it’s evident when she asks if he could use another one of her lollipops or even a stuffed animal. She explains that whenever she gets a cold, her stuffed animals make her feel better. Upon hearing this, Barret seems to melt at the kindness of his daughter and showers her with kisses.</p><p> </p><p>Wedge doesn’t come back out at all during the two hours. Aerith assumes that he got caught up talking some sense into Biggs. It’s reassuring to know that Biggs doesn’t have a chance to isolate himself like he seems to be trying to do and that Wedge is doing his best to get him out of his head. </p><p> </p><p>She hopes that along with taking care of Biggs, they might have been able to get some food into Cloud. He hasn’t eaten anything except for a few plain crackers in the past three days. They have been keeping him properly hydrated but he simply couldn’t stomach anything more than that, much less stay awake long enough to eat. The good thing is that nausea wasn’t one of the infection’s symptoms - the only time Cloud threw up was when the stress of a nightmare made him spit up some bile. The nightmare itself was nothing to be glad about from Tifa’s description, but it would have seriously complicated things if Cloud couldn't retain his fluids and nutrients. </p><p> </p><p>No, fortunately, he's on the mend thanks to Dr.Hearth’s antibiotics. Riding out the rest of his recovery should be clear sailing compared to the last few days. The last thing on the agenda in terms of Cloud’s health is giving him a nice, solid scolding so that he never does something so stupid again. It’ll be hard, getting through his thick skull, but with Tifa’s help, they should be able to get the job done. But something is still bothering her.</p><p> </p><p>Aerith sips at her drink, unable to stop thinking about what sort of messed up logic could have made Cloud think he wasn’t worth saving. Then it clicks. Their talk with Cloud won’t be about how incredibly stupid he was being. It’ll be about something much more difficult to discuss. Convincing someone of their innate value is much harder than just slapping some sense into them. And if Cloud had honestly thought that he wasn’t worth the trouble to the point where he would rather let himself die than scare them…</p><p> </p><p>Well. Aerith has her work cut out for her, then.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>This time, when Cloud awakes, he knows where he is. He remembers the warehouse. The memories come flooding to the forefront of his mind. He can remember everything clearly right up until something hit his head, but past that there's a big blank chunk. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever happened after that left him pretty injured. His knee throbs, not broken, but definitely hurt. There's a stinging pain in his chest and back, his left shoulder is incredibly sore, and his forearm itches. Under the bandages wrapped around his arm, he feels his skin has been stitched up, as well as two spots on his torso. It's uncomfortable, but the pain from his injuries is something to latch onto and focus past the bone-deep malaise. </p><p> </p><p>He pries his eyes open and looks around the back room of Seventh Heaven. Jessie is sitting in a creaking folding chair beside the cot he lays in. She hasn't noticed he's awake yet. </p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the room, mostly covered by a frilly pink curtain, is a twin-sized bed. Everything is pastel-colored. It must be where Marlene sleeps. It doesn't look like she has slept there in a while. Whatever pillows or toys she might sleep with are nowhere to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud goes to rub the sleep from his eyes and is astonished at how much his limb shakes. It takes immense effort to even lift his hand from the cot, much less bring up to his face. Jessie startles, but he’s too busy staring at his shaking hand to notice.</p><p> </p><p>That is until she gently takes his hand in her own and says, “Well, you’re looking much better.” Her fingers curl around his palm loosely. She won’t hold him there if he doesn’t want to.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” Cloud tugs his hand away so he can rub his eyes. He’s been sleeping for a while, judging by how his joints creak.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t remember? I guess that’s for the better.” Jessie brushes a strand of hair from her face, not quite making eye contact. “How about some water and your medicine?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. But I’d like to know how I ended up like this.”</p><p> </p><p>She grabs a cup of water and a familiar little chalky pill without a word. Cloud waves her away and forces his trembling limbs to obey. It takes far, far too long for him to pull an elbow under himself so he can sit up halfway and even longer to get a solid grip on the cup. Well, it’s as solid as it will get, and at least he isn’t spilling the water. Jessie hands him the pill. He knocks it back with a generous gulp of water.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, I’m looking better?” Cloud hands her the cup after chugging the rest of the water. Though he’s lucid now and vaguely remembers the last time he woke up, there is too much time missing from his memory. He already couldn’t remember a lot of things from his past for some reason - his head pounds at the thought of it - and he’d rather not have to deal with retrograde amnesia round two. His arm gives out, forcing him back onto the cot. He bounces slightly and holds back a wince when his injured arm is jostled.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you’ve been sick for three days. Before we got you the medicine, you weren’t looking too good.” Jessie fists her hands in her pants. “Fever, nausea, the works. But you’re looking handsome as ever now.” She tries to give her a patented smile and thumbs-up, but there’s a tremble to her voice and lips.</p><p> </p><p>His voice is stone cold when he responds, “Jessie. How did I get here? What happened in the warehouse after the sweepers exploded?” He hadn’t quite noticed before past the steady headache but there’s a cut on the side of his face that is getting more annoying. The gap in his memory is aggravating, to the say the least. It’s not as frustrating as the much bigger gap before he met Tifa at the train station, but the way Jessie is dancing around his question is. His head gives another vicious throb right behind his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Jessie crosses her arms tightly, looking off to the side, not focusing on what’s in front of her. “We fell. The scaffolding got tangled up in a clump, so it didn’t crush us, but it wasn’t stable.” Her voice starts to shake in earnest. “Barret had made sure Wedge, Biggs, and I weren’t hurt, so he took the brunt of the fall. We gave him the last of the potions...and then you woke up. And we didn’t know. We really didn’t.” Her face had already been pale but whatever she’s picturing is making her cheeks tint green. She blinks rapidly, wipes away a tear roughly with the back of her hand. “You got hit on the head with a rock, but even after that, you helped Tifa. The grappling hook dislocated your shoulder and then you both kept falling. Tifa hurt her ankle. You must have landed on your arm…” Jessie pauses to take a wavering breath. “And a piece of rebar impaled you. We didn’t hear and I guess the concussion made it so you didn’t wake up immediately. But- but you didn’t...you didn’t <em> tell </em>us.” As soon as she says that, the tears overflow, and she curls in on herself. She looks very small sitting in that chair. </p><p> </p><p>So that explains his injuries and the bout of amnesia. It tracks, to be honest, that he hadn’t told them. Jessie had mentioned that they gave Barret the only healing potions they had, and without Aerith, they would have had no way of healing him. Though he still can’t remember, Cloud is sure he didn’t tell them because he hadn’t wanted to worry them. There was no reason to make them panic if there was no way to help him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s glad to know, but there’s a small part of him that regrets making Jessie cry in the process. She shouldn’t cry over his stupidity, his incompetence.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud reaches out painstakingly slow. She’s sitting to his left and there’s no way his right hand will reach, so he resigns himself to toughing it out. He lays his hand on her knee, feeling her body shake as she tries to stop crying.</p><p> </p><p>She jumps at his touch, looks down, and her eyes all but pop out of her head. “Shit, You shouldn’t be moving your shoulder or- or your forearm or anything! ” Jessie scoots closer to the bed and carefully brings his hand back to his side but doesn’t let go. Cloud squeezes once.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay. I’m okay.”</p><p> </p><p>He had meant to comfort her, but Jessie only stares down at him incredulously. A shadow falls over her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Right. Yeah.” She seems to make up her mind suddenly and leans down, giving his cheek a peck. “A-after that, we blew through a wall into the sewers and made our way back to Seventh Heaven. Aerith healed you as much as she could, but your wounds were already infected. But we've been taking really good care of you. You’ve just got a couple more scars, but all the girls love battle scars, stud.” There’s a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s just going through the motions. She smiles at him all the same and it doesn’t reach her eyes. Just like Biggs.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud looks down at his body, noting where the bandages are. There will be a new mark on his arm, chest, and back, then. Possibly on his face, too. His eyes settle on the long scar on his belly. He can picture the sword that had rammed through him, hoisted him up in the air, blood spraying from both sides of his body. </p><p> </p><p>“You should sleep some more. The infection isn’t completely gone from your system. You’ve got a couple more pills before the antibiotics are finished.” Jessie has composed herself by now, eyes bloodshot but mercifully dry.</p><p> </p><p>Though he’s understandably exhausted, Cloud has been lying in this bed for three days already. His body is sticky from sweat, courtesy of the fever he just barely sweat out, and there is much to be done. He should get up, take a shower, grab his sword, and get back to work. Don Corneo’s threat to Sector 7 must be investigated. Countless lives count on it.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, his body refuses to let him stay awake. He’s been awake for maybe fifteen minutes, between taking his medicine and Jessie catching him up, but evidently, that’s enough. His eyes close against his will. Cloud sighs, trying to communicate his displeasure, and that’s the last thing he does before sleep claims him yet again.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>When he next wakes up, Cloud can sense it hasn’t been very long. Before, he felt that he’d slept for nearly entire days at a time. Now the first thing he notices is that, along with the pain of his wounds, his stomach feels utterly empty. Hunger claws its way back into his body, making it increasingly obvious that he hasn’t eaten much in the past three days. </p><p> </p><p>This time, there is no one sitting at his bedside. The folding chair is still there as well as the pitcher of water and a cup. Cloud tests his strength, tucking his good elbow in to try to push himself up. He finds that he hasn’t gotten much better since the last time he awoke, which makes sense but is nonetheless frustrating. His arm trembles from the simple movement. Scowling, he all but shoves himself into an unstable sitting position, and almost regrets it when every injury he has complains loudly. The pain in his lower chest amplifies as he hunches over, keeping his left arm close to his body instinctually. His shoulder is hurting more than it should - then he remembers it had been dislocated for however long they were trapped under the rubble. It should heal much better than a normal human’s given his enhanced healing, but until then, he’ll need to be very careful not to injure it further.</p><p> </p><p>The next step is to get his feet on the ground. Just as Cloud goes to swing his legs off the cot, the door to the bar opens. Barret maneuvers through the low door frame and then stops cold, staring down at Cloud. His face goes from surprise to incredulity in the blink of an eye.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Barret cocks his head, sounding as though he truly can’t rationalize why Cloud is sitting up. Barret sounds so scandalized that he almost feels like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Are you really that stupid? Y’know what, I don’t know why I’m asking. Of course you are.” He shakes his head, disappointed, and marches over to the cot. With his organic hand, he pushes Cloud back onto the blankets.</p><p> </p><p>Exhausted from fighting off the infection and blood loss, Cloud topples over easily. Barret didn’t even have to push that hard, using only his fingertips. </p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Cloud snarls. It didn’t hurt, but he doesn’t much enjoy the blow to his pride. He’s about as strong as a newborn kitten at the moment and he doesn’t like that Barret has taken advantage of it. “I’m just getting up to piss.” No need to mention he was going to try to make the trek to the kitchen for some much-needed food. Barret is already glowering as though Cloud killed his dog. </p><p> </p><p>“Then ask for help.” Barret’s voice is frigid and unforgiving. “What, you think we’re gonna kill you? Choke you to death in your sleep? You think we’re like Shinra after we saved your ass? After <em>you </em>saved us? Get a fucking grip.” The towering man stalks over to the pitcher and pours a cup of water. He shoves it toward Cloud. “Drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud glares at the cup, furious at what it represents. He was too weak to make it out of that warehouse alone. If they had been attacked in the sewers, he would have been dead weight. Now, he’s too weak to get up, much less pour himself a drink of water, or even make it to the bathroom. Utterly pathetic.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need your help,” he seethes. Shame and self-loathing heat his cheeks, make the blood roar in his ears. </p><p> </p><p>The cup creaks in Barret’s grip. “Yes, you do.” He grabs Cloud’s hand and stuffs it in his hold, closing his trembling fingers around the plastic. “It doesn’t make you useless. Everyone needs help once in a while.” He lets go of the cup.</p><p> </p><p>His face burns. Barret doesn’t understand. Cloud has been alone for too long to afford to get used to their help. He does his best to accept Tifa’s help but even then, he <em>hates </em>it. It’s not her fault. Cloud has learned to stand on his own and protect his honor as a SOLDIER on his own. Anything that threatens that honor makes his stomach turn.</p><p> </p><p>A whispering voice in the back of his head tells him he’s worthless, ineffective, an absolute waste of time and space. It doesn’t sound like himself. It’s cold and clinical and sometimes, when Cloud wakes up screaming, he can’t help but think it isn’t just his self-loathing but a memory. A memory accompanied by the image of scalpels and needles. Agony streaks through his head. He grits his teeth through it. </p><p> </p><p>“Your knee is still messed up, so I’ll help you to the bathroom.”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud chugs the water down. He must have sweat a lot to be this thirsty every time he wakes up. “I can walk on my own.” To be honest, he’s not sure he can. But he won’t have Barret walk him to the bathroom like he's a senile old man.</p><p> </p><p>Barret opens his mouth as if to yell at him again. Instead, he seems to have a revelation. “Fine.” He shifts his weight to one leg and crosses his arms, suddenly willing to let Cloud do what he wants. "Go ahead." Cloud narrows his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>He won’t look a gift horse in the mouth if it means he gets to salvage the scraps his dignity. Cloud slowly pushes himself up again, breathing deeply when he manages to sit up straight. Barret’s gaze stays fixed to him. He refuses to look up at the man and see the pity in his eyes. He has to focus on getting his legs to move, anyway. His knee spasms as it’s forced to move for the first time in days. No matter. It’s nothing he can’t handle. Cloud throws the blanket off his legs, not caring that he’s only in his boxers. He curls his hand into the blankets with white knuckles and shuffles his legs off the cot. Every inch of movements seems to take an eternity and by the time his feet touch down, a new layer of sweat glistens on his skin. </p><p> </p><p>Cloud adjusts his hold onto the cot’s frame. The metal feels nice against his clammy palms. His legs were numb until now. His knee is on fire and he can’t stop shaking. Unfortunately, he’s been downing a full cup of water every time he’s woken up. He assumes that they only ever took him to the bathroom when strictly necessary, so it’s safe to say he wasn’t lying to Barret. Cloud does need to go to the bathroom. </p><p> </p><p>Breathing out slowly, he prepares himself for the change in elevation and lurches to his feet. No amount of breathing could stop the intense rush of dizziness. Lightheaded, he leans back, almost falling onto the cot. Cloud forces his body forward way past the point of counterbalance so that he has to take a step or fall right on his face. His right leg shoots out at the last second.</p><p> </p><p>The dizziness has only gotten worse. Now the floor looks like it’s the wall and the ceiling is to his right. He has to keep going, though. If Cloud can’t even make it to the bathroom, then what type of ex-SOLDIER is he supposed to be? How could he even call himself a mercenary if a short walk to the bathroom does him in?</p><p> </p><p>Dragging in a ragged breath, Cloud sways from side to side. Black spots start to float around his vision. <em> Just a few more steps.</em> His left foot drags on the floor in a slow lilt forward. Sweat drips down his face and into the cut on his face, stinging. He leans his weight on his left leg recklessly. Instantly, the pain is so strong that his knee buckles, his leg completely unable to hold him up. Cloud cries out, waiting for the imminent impact.</p><p> </p><p>One huge arm scoops him up before he has a chance to fall. “I told you,” Barret mutters. “Refusing help only serves to make you a very small man, Cloud. And you're already a pipsqueak.” He gives a half-hearted laugh. Then, he walks to the bathroom and deposits Cloud onto the cold tiles. The black spots have only just started to clear away, so he stays there swaying for a few more seconds. “You’re welcome.”</p><p> </p><p>The room snaps back into place. Cloud fixes his dazed expression in his usual scowl and slams the door. </p><p> </p><p>Once he’s done, Cloud leans hard on the sink. The huge scar on his stomach looks as gruesome as it ever does. It has never bothered him in terms of aesthetics - the memory of Sephiroth razing his village to the ground is what bothers him. He tears his eyes away from the thick line on his stomach. He looks up to the bandages on his chest. His fingers drag over the gauze, tracing the stitches. Cloud looks at the door through the mirror and makes sure it’s still locked. </p><p> </p><p>He unravels the bandage from his chest. It falls into the sink, the edges getting damp. He rakes his eyes over the bruised flesh and black sutures holding his flesh together. Then, he painstakingly shifts his hold on the sink and turns enough to catch a glimpse of the matching wound on his back. Cloud turns back around and stops to catch his breath. He grabs the bandages and tosses them in the trash. </p><p> </p><p>He’s fucking furious that he can barely manage to piss by himself. The rage is eclipsing everything else, including the knowledge that Tifa and Aerith will be worried. The thought of them fussing over him is, at face value, a nice one. Anyone would be lucky to have them care deeply about their wellbeing. And yet, he can’t help but feel disgusted at himself. Cloud stares into his mako-stained eyes, watching as they darken, the bags under his eyes a vivid purple. His nails dig into the sink.</p><p> </p><p>After everything he’s done, Cloud doesn’t deserve their help. He shouldn’t need it, anyway. Who- no, <em> what </em>is he if he can’t survive by his own strength? Disgraceful. Incompetent. Worthless.</p><p> </p><p>A waste of a living legacy.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t realize he’s cocking his fist back until the mirror shatters. The shards fall into the sink, on the floor, and stab into his fist. Cloud stumbles back, head feeling like it’s going to split. His back slams into the door. Pain explodes all over his body as he slides down, in his knee and back, but the worst is his head.</p><p> </p><p><em>Legacy? Whose legacy?</em> He sees a flash of black hair in his mind. The pain crescendos. It’s too much.</p><p> </p><p>Someone slams on the door. “Cloud!” Barret yells, muffled through the wood. He keeps knocking on the door. The vibrations shake through him, ripping the image away. His headache lessens, becoming almost bearable. Cloud gasps, not knowing when he’d stopped breathing or when his vision tunneled, and rocks forward. Haphazardly, he feels around the door until he finds the doorknob and unlocks it.</p><p> </p><p>The door flies open, narrowly missing his foot. Barret stumbles into the bathroom, looking around wildly before he spots Cloud on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“I leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes and you manage to do all this shit? Goddamn.” Barret takes in the shattered mirror, the blood on Cloud’s hand, and the discarded bandages. He then leans out of the bathroom and bellows, “I need some help back here!”</p><p> </p><p>It’s at this point that Cloud’s body has had enough. He slumps onto his side, desperately trying to stay awake. Body going limp, his eyes slide shut against his will, and he’s out like a light, desperately trying to remember who the black hair belongs to.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The fact that the mirror will have to be replaced doesn’t bother her. Cleaning the blood off the floor doesn’t bother her. The mess is inconsequential to her. What worries Tifa is why in the world Cloud felt the need to destroy the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>What had he seen? Did he see Sephiroth, or was it his reflection that filled Cloud with anguish?</p><p> </p><p>Tifa tosses the last of the shards in the trash. </p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Cloud wakes up a few minutes after he fainted. He won’t look them in the eye, but Tifa can see the fury in his eyes. She knows it’s not directed at them. There’s no way she can make him talk about it. Not that she wants to, not until he can at least sit up on his own without trembling like a leaf in a storm.</p><p> </p><p>The antibiotics had done their job, Cloud quickly regains his appetite. He wolfs down anything they bring him. His body needs the energy to finish healing what’s left of his wounds. It also needs to make up for not eating for three days straight. Cloud never asks for the meals outright - his stomach growls loudly enough. He blushes, looks away, and quietly thanks whoever’s turn it is to feed him. </p><p> </p><p>He seems to be flipping between intense anger and embarrassment. One moment he’s quiet and on his best behavior and the next he’s snapping at them about not needing help. Tifa does her best to give him room, but Cloud isn’t back to full health yet. He can't take care of himself yet.</p><p> </p><p>One day passes, then two, and he still can’t walk on his own. His wounds are healing faster now, but not fast enough for Cloud. He needs to be watched as often as possible or else he’ll try to do something dumb like walk by himself. The problem is that he hates being watched and it fuels his need to be independent.</p><p> </p><p>By the third day, Cloud is so irritable and unpredictable that Tifa doesn’t know what to do anymore. She’s been trying to avoid it, but Barret seems to know how to deal with Cloud’s damned stubbornness. His method is to let Cloud do what he wants to prove that he <em> can’t </em>. Apparently, it had worked when Cloud wanted to get up and walk by himself right after waking up. With her patience hanging by a thread, she decides that enough is enough. Cloud has to learn one way or another that he can and will need their help. She's just not sure how to do it or if she's capable of letting Cloud hurt himself. Even if it's for his own good.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa is wiping down the counter when Cloud comes limping out of the backroom. She watches, speechless, as he comes to sit on a stool with minimal difficulty. Though he’s limping heavily, he didn’t waver, and now he’s giving her a look.</p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t need anyone’s help </em>.</p><p> </p><p>She brings over a heaping plate of food. He digs in with a soft <em> thank you </em>and sets a small pile of gil on the counter. Tifa drops the gil into her apron, knowing that if she doesn’t, they’ll argue about it for ages. She watches him eat out of the corner of her eye.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What has made you so scared? </em>
</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>The day after Cloud proves to be strong enough to walk on his own, Dr. Hearth comes to visit again. This time, he skips the lab coat altogether. Cloud is sitting on the barren cot, shirtless, and wearing a new pair of shorts. Aerith had decided to stay until the doctor gave Cloud a clean bill of health. As long as Dr.Hearth doesn’t find anything amiss during today’s examination, she should be going home to her mother before nightfall. </p><p> </p><p>Tifa finds that she’s conflicted about whether or not she wants Aerith to leave. They’ve been gravitating to each other recently, and her company never fails to brighten Tifa’s day. Her mother is undoubtedly getting antsy, what with her daughter being away for a whole week, so she won’t ask Aerith to stay. It’s irrational to do so, anyway, since Tifa can go visit her almost any time. Regardless, she hates the idea of Aerith leaving.</p><p> </p><p>That’s not the primary focus of the day, though. Tifa will have plenty of time to think about Aerith later. She’s been holding her breath all day waiting for the doctor to arrive. Now that he’s finally here, she feels her heart speed up as he looks over Cloud’s injuries.</p><p> </p><p>He seems impressed at the speed at which the various wounds have been healing. The ex-SOLDIER had also gotten over the infection even faster than Dr. Hearth anticipated. </p><p> </p><p>“Again, I have to commend your skills, ladies. I’m sure that without your help, Cloud would not have healed this quickly.” Dr. Hearth tells them. "In fact, you'll be able to take the stitches out by next week as long as you remain on your best behavior.”</p><p> </p><p>Though there is no lab coat present, Cloud is still tense. It may not seem like it to the rest of the world, but Tifa can see it in the set of his jaw and the tension in his body. His shoulders are pressed down subtly and he’s perched on the cot as if ready to run at the drop of a hat. Tifa suspects that it doesn’t matter what Dr. Hearth is wearing or how non-threatening he is, the simple fact that he is a doctor makes him untrustworthy. She wants to reach out, touch his shoulder, remind him that he is safe, but there’s no way Cloud would accept any comfort. Not with the subject of his anxiety in the room. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t thank you enough, Dr.Hearth.” Aerith gives him a dazzling smile - they’re <em> all </em> dazzling to Tifa - and offers to show him to the door. "I would stay longer, but my mom is getting worried." She grabs Cloud hand gently with both hands. "I'll come back to visit soon. You just focus on getting better, okay?"</p><p> </p><p>Cloud nods and pats her hand with his free one. "Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>Aerith smiles again, though softer this time. Then she turns to Tifa and throws her arms around her. Happily surprised, Tifa brings her closer. "See you soon!" When she pulls away, Tifa almost wants to keep her in place, but she knows she can't. Aerith has responsibilities, too.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud watches the two of them leave, chatting about various chores waiting for them at the Sector 5 slums. He doesn’t move to pick up his shirt. With his hands in his lap, he stares at the door, waiting. He doesn’t relax until a few minutes later when the distant sound of the front door clicking closed reaches them. Once it does, he scoops his shirt up and pulls it on over his head. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” he says softly, “For taking care of me.” Then, he stands and opens his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Tifa steps into his embrace. She wraps his arms around him carefully. He doesn’t move away or make any indication that he wants to, so she takes the opportunity to do what she couldn’t earlier. Her fingers trail up his back and stop at the bundle of stitches. Cloud exhales slowly. She doesn’t linger there, bringing her hand up to his shoulder, then back down again. Cloud never seemed to run this warm before joining SOLDIER. Something about the mako affecting his bodily functions has made him a veritable oven. Not that she’s complaining. </p><p> </p><p>She leans back, hands coming to rest on his biceps, and says, “I’m glad that you’re okay.” <em> It’s now or never </em>. “But we have to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>His face falls. </p><p> </p><p>“About?”</p><p> </p><p>“About what you did. Not telling us, I mean.” Her heart starts to race, anxiety making her pulse pound in her throat. “It was- I just don’t understand. Well, I do, but I still can’t wrap my head around it...”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud steps back at that. His expression becomes unreadable where it had been open and earnest just a moment ago. “Spit it out, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa crosses her arms. “We need to talk about your suicidal tendencies, Cloud.”</p><p> </p><p>She may as well have slapped him. Shock registers first on his face, then it melts into disbelief. Then anger. “I don’t <em> have </em>- what- what the fuck are you talking about?” He laughs incredulously. “I’m not suicidal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get pissed at me. I'm just worried about you. Come with me and we can talk about this like adults.” Tifa leaves no room for argument as she turns on her heel and heads out into the bar before he can refuse. She hears him follow after her, boots thumping loudly on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>That proved to be a mistake. Originally, Tifa had meant to de-escalate the argument and give them a more open, well-lit environment to talk it out. She hadn’t counted on Avalanche’s meeting ending at the same time she decided to start this dreadful conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Cloud strides through the door. “Tifa, don’t do this shit--”</p><p> </p><p>“Do what?” Barret interrupts, eyes darkening. “What’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa looks back at Cloud and watches as the anger in his eyes intensifies. She turns back to Barret. “Cloud and I were just talking. Don’t worry about it.”</p><p> </p><p>He cocks his eyebrow at that. “You talking to him about <em> it </em>?” It's clear what Barret is hinting at. </p><p> </p><p><em> Shit </em>, Tifa thinks. There’s no way to stop this from snowballing now.</p><p> </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, you all really think I’m a head case?” Cloud is getting more than agitated with everyone’s presence. A mix of humiliation and rage makes him flush slightly. “Did you seriously talk about how I’m <em> crazy </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not- we don’t think that,” Jessie tries, getting up from the table. “It’s just that, I mean, you didn’t tell us you were so hurt.” She seems to lose steam at the reminder of the failed mission.</p><p> </p><p>"What about that makes you think I'm fucking crazy?"</p><p> </p><p>Wedge doesn’t look up from the table when he speaks. “You knew you were going to die, didn’t you? You knew and you didn’t say shit. How do you even rationalize that?” He shakes his head. “What else are we supposed to think?”</p><p> </p><p>Cloud mouth drops open at that. They’re teaming up on him, overwhelming him. Tifa wrings her hand, looking between Cloud and the others, watching as Biggs starts to fidget obsessively. </p><p> </p><p>“I...You don’t understand.” Cloud clenches his fists and looks away. “What were you going to do? There was no way to help me. Without any materia or potions, I was going to die anyway. There was no use in making you panic.”</p><p> </p><p>Biggs slams his hand on the table, shooting to his feet. “But you didn’t <em> say anything! </em>” His chest heaves as he breathes fast and shallow. She doesn’t doubt that the conversation has launched him headfirst into an anxiety attack. “How fucked up is that? That you were going to- to just die. You were going to let it happen and then we would’ve found your fucking corpse!”</p><p> </p><p>“So?” Cloud yells. “So what? How would it have helped to have you know? To have you hold my hand as I die?” He scoffs. “You all needed to keep a clear head and focus on getting out. If you had known, you’d have panicked and done something stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa feels the air freeze in her throat. It’s just as bad as she thought it would be.  She can’t fathom what could have made Cloud think this was at all normal. Emotions threaten to choke her, her voice weak as she murmurs, “That- that’s not healthy, Cloud. You have to know that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s some pretty twisted fuckin’ logic,” Barret says lowly. “And that is exactly why we think you’re a danger to yourself, you dumbass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m real fucking sorry for being such a freak and a burden.” Cloud shakes his head, laughing humorlessly again. “But it really doesn’t matter. I don’t need a shrink. And I don’t need your help.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t trust us, do you?” Jessie asks, voice small. “That’s why you don’t want our help.”</p><p> </p><p>Wedge finally looks up, reaching across the table to hold Biggs’s hand. “I thought...after everything, you know...That we’re friends, right? Friends help each other.”</p><p> </p><p>Tifa watches as a daze falls over Cloud’s eyes. He winces violently, flinching back, and grabs his head in both hands. He stumbles and nearly falls. Tifa races to his side but doesn’t dare touch him until she knows it won’t trigger him. </p><p> </p><p>“Cloud, hey, look at me.” She lets her arm hover behind his head in case he collapses. “Are you seeing him?” Tifa looks around the bar and sees only her friends’ confused faces. “He’s not here, Cloud. Look at me.”</p><p> </p><p>He groans, giving no indication that he heard her. Sweat rolls down his face as he pulls on his hair, nails digging into his scalp. Blood begins to drip from his nose. Tifa gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“Cloud--”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Cloud brings his arm up between them so quickly that she stumbles back in surprise. “<em>Don’t</em>.” He staggers toward the door. The others are too shocked to move and Tifa is sure he doesn’t want to be touched. Cloud all but falls against the door and grips the handle with a shaking hand. “Don’t follow me.”</p><p> </p><p>Then he’s gone, slamming the door behind him. And Tifa is left staring at the blood on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What have we done?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I look forward to hearing your feedback ;) I will get to writing the next fic ASAP! It will deal with the fallout of the intervention. Sorry about the cliffhanger but not really &gt;:)</p><p>Until then, here is my <a href="https://james-writes-occasionally.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>! Feel free to shoot me a message or ask about whatever!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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